


O Come!

by awarrington



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Action/Adventure, Christmas, Drunken Confessions, First Time, Holidays, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and while drunk, Doyle gives Bodie an unexpected gift, one that they've both wanted for a long time. In the cold and sober light of day, neither is sure the step they took was such a great idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was first published in a zine around 1999 and has been uploaded unedited, so apologies for the quality of my writing back then.

The taxi pulled up on the corner beside a red-brick Victorian mansion block, its diesel engine ticking over loudly in the silence of the small hours. As Bodie and Doyle staggered out onto the pavement, a northerly wind whipped away the vapour from their breaths and cut through their jackets like tiny stiletto knives prickling their warm skin.

"Your turn t'pay," said Doyle as he lurched down the road towards the main entrance.

"Wha'? I paid last time you miserly git," Bodie protested at the retreating back. It was a struggle to extricate his wallet from his trouser pocket. "Fuck, i's freezing…ah, gocha."

Bodie hadn't noticed how much the fare was, and from where he was standing, he was unable to focus properly on the meter. Not wanting to appear stupid to the driver, he pulled out a ten pound note, telling him to keep the change. Too late, he knew he'd paid over the odds the taxi driver wished him a Merry Christmas as he drove off. London cabbies were never cheerful.

"Fuck." He glanced around. "Ray?" he called as he wove his way to towards the bum poking out of the doorway. Doyle was bent over, apparently having difficulty inserting his key into the lock.

"Gis it here," said Bodie, snatching it from him.

After trying to push it, then ram it into the lock, he had a go aiming it a foot away and gliding it in what he considered to be a straight line towards the lock. Next, he tried a two-handed method convinced he'd be more steady. Damn, but that lock was small… All the while, Doyle watched on intently.

His attempts were equally unsuccessful.

"I got it!" Doyle suddenly shouted. "You hold the key up an' I'll guide it in."

Bodie obediently held the key towards the lock. Unexpectedly, Doyle twisted Bodie's wrist so that the key was rotated through 180 degrees and the notched part was up.

"Ow! You trying to tear my arm off?" Bodie complained.

Doyle ignored his protestations. "Hold it steady, tha's it…" he encouraged. He stared intently at the key as it slid into the lock. Turning it caused Bodie further pain.

"Ssssssshhhhhhhh! You'll wake everyone up," Doyle remonstrated rather more loudly than his partner's indignant cries of pain. Loftily ignoring Bodie's obvious discomfort as he twisted his arm in a way it was never designed to do, the lock clicked.

"Voila!" Doyle shouted out in triumph as the door opened. "Ssssssshhhhhhhh!" he chided, though Bodie had said nothing as he stood nursing his sore arm, a pouty scowl on his face. "Oh and the lift still isn't workin'," he added helpfully.

"Great!" Bodie muttered.

It was dark inside and it took both men half a minute to locate the hall light, doing so none too quietly. Once found, Bodie pressed it. In his befuddled brain, he vaguely remembered that they now had around half a minute to get up three flights of stairs before it automatically switched itself off. While there were buttons on each landing, he doubted Doyle would know where they were and even if he did, in the state he was in, it was unlikely he'd be able to do anything about it.

Both men ran towards the steps. Bodie made it up the first flight in a less than co-ordinated fashion, while Doyle tripped up on the first step and cursed loudly. The sight gave Bodie a fit of the giggles and by the time his partner joined him, it was once again pitch black.

"Wha's so fuckin' funny?" Doyle demanded angrily.

"You," Bodie finally wheezed and once again went into peels of laughter. In the dark, the slap he got to the back of the head was unexpected and had the probably desired affect of shutting up the laughter.

"What was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"For takin' the piss," said Doyle, his receding voice telling Bodie he was already heading up the next flight of stairs.

"But…"

"Ssssssshhhhhhhh!"

Bodie wasn't in the least bit phased by the lack of light. Gloating at his superior SAS training, he managed pretty much to put one foot in front of the other and bet to himself that Doyle wasn't faring nearly so well. When he finally reached Doyle's landing, after some fumbling he located the light switch and pushed it. As he blinked in the bright light, the smug expression was wiped from his face as he focussed on Doyle's door. His partner wasn't there. Surely he hadn't managed to get up and in that quickly. A muffled curse made him look over the banister to see Doyle one floor down trying unsuccessfully to gain entry into someone else's flat.

"Up here, you berk!" he called, grinning.

Doyle looked up, looked back at the door number now revealed in the light. With haughty dignity, he gave Bodie a two-fingered salute and reeled towards the steps.

Getting into Doyle's place was no less a feat than getting into the main building. Ahead of them was a wide hall, with doors to the bathroom immediately on the right and the kitchen opposite it. Further along were two more doors facing each other, the left one leading to Doyle's bedroom, the other to the living room. At the far end, a window looked out over communal gardens.

Both men made a bee-line for the kitchen where they used up the last of a semi-stale loaf of bread and a hunk of cheddar from the fridge which was a little hard around the edges, but otherwise all right. Lining their stomachs helped sober them up a little. Feeling exhausted and replete, they flopped down on Doyle's sofa, beer in hand.

The room they were in was large and sparsely furnished. Behind the one large sofa stood a sideboard that housed Doyle's new music centre (new to him - it was actually second-hand), with a pile of LPs that showed its owner to have an eclectic taste in music. Next to that stood a well-stocked bookshelf.

Opposite the sofa was a large, old black and white tv which, despite considerable nagging from Bodie, Doyle refused to upgrade to colour on grounds of cost. He'd also rightly pointed out that if ever they fancied watching a flick they could always go around to Bodie's place, since he'd recently bought a state-of-the-art colour tv and one of those new-fangled video machines.

The walls of his partner's living room were decorated with several of his own paintings and sketches which, after some encouragement from him, Doyle had had properly framed. When he'd moved in, a small chandelier had been suspended from the high ceiling. Far too ostentatious for Doyle's taste, he had soon replaced it with a single bulb housed inside a large, round paper lantern, which gave off a soft, diffused light.

The previous week, Bodie had bought a Christmas tree, which they'd installed in the flat and a day later, much to Doyle's disgust, it had promptly dropped half its needles on his carpet. Since then, it seemed to have settled down and now, every time they entered the room, they were assaulted by a refreshingly crisp smell of pine.

"Was a good night t'night," said Doyle, finally breaking the companionable silence. He was slumped down on the sofa, his beer resting on this chest.

"Yeah," Bodie agreed. Sitting to Doyle's left, he shifted to a more comfortable position by wedging a cushion behind his back and lying his right arm along the back of the sofa. "'S good to get out with the lads. 'Specially at Christmas."

"'Aven't snogged that many birds in one night since I was at school."

"Noticed you were getting around," said Bodie. "That redhead - thought you were gonna eat her. I didn't once see you come up for air."

Doyle grinned. "She was a good snogger."

"Yeah, she was, an' she told me I was too," Bodie said smugly. "Both times…"

Doyle laughed that dirty laugh that Bodie loved to hear. "Whose idea was it to crash that Hen Night and bring a load of mistletoe, anyway?"

"Murph's."

"Ah," said Doyle knowingly. "There was some nice crumpet there. How comes we didn't pick any of 'em up?" he wondered aloud.

"Dunno. Couldn't be arsed." Bodie sighed.

"Who was that old boiler you were snoggin' towards the end?"

Bodie fidgeted uncomfortably. He hadn't thought anyone had noticed, being as everyone was so engrossed themselves in the traditional pre-Christmas ritual. "Friend of the bird I really wanted to kiss," he answered, defensively.

"What, you 'ad to snog her to get to snog her mate?" Doyle sniggered. "So which one was her mate?"

"The brunette with the tight leather trousers and legs up to her armpits."

"Ah yeah, I remember her. Nice. Was it worth it?"

Bodie shifted. "She buggered off with Murph before I got to find out," he finally admitted.

Doyle hooted with laughter. Being drunk, it turned into a fit of the giggles and every time he managed to get it under control, it took only a short look at Bodie's scowl to cause a further eruption.

Bodie was getting annoyed. "Wasn't that fucking funny."

Doyle eventually subsided into silence. They sat, basking in each other's company, comfortable enough not to need to fill the gaps in conversation with trivial talk.

"Got some good lads on the squad," said Doyle eventually. "Know you can rely on 'em."

"Yeah, but against my better instinct, I wouldn't want to be partnered with any of them," Bodie pointed out.

"Not when you've got me. I'm the best there is," said Doyle and bestowed a drunken smile on Bodie.

Something deep inside Bodie melted. "Best for me, anyway. You're my best mate," he said solemnly.

"An' you're mine. Best mate I've ever 'ad."

"Mine too," Bodie agreed, seemingly unaware that whenever they got drunk together and were feeling mellow, they went through the same ritual of reiterating their bond of friendship. "Trust you to watch my back," he continued.

"Yeah, an' I watch yours."

Bodie giggled.

Doyle turned to him. "What?"

"Jus' trying to imagine us both trying to watch each other's backs simul..simat…at the same time."

That required more thought than Doyle was presently capable of. "Wha'?"

Bodie jumped up and grabbing his partner's hand tried to pull the dead weight off the sofa. "Oi, watch m'beer! Wotcha tryin' to do?"

"Get up and I'll show you," said Bodie, hands on hips.

Putting his beer on the floor, it was with great effort that Doyle complied.

"Right you stand there and I'll stand here, now try and watch my back." Doyle obediently stepped to stand behind Bodie. "Right now I'll watch yours," he added and went behind Doyle.

"How 'm I supposed to watch your back if you stand there?"

"Precisely," said Bodie. "You can't. But we could have a laugh trying…"

The next few minutes was them attempting to do the impossible, between peals of laughter.

Eventually they stood facing each other, Bodie clutching his side and wheezing. From apparently nowhere, Doyle pulled out a sprig of mistletoe.

"Give us a kiss, Bodie," he asked with a broad grin and puckered his lips.

"Piss off - I'd rather kiss the back end of a bus." It was far from true, but he wasn't about to let Doyle in on that fact.

Doyle grinned. "Thought you already did tonight."

"Ha-bloody-ha."

"C'mon. Even I'm not as bad as she was." Doyle wasn't smiling any more.

"That's a matter of opinion," said Bodie, realising the joking had stopped and wanting to put an end to this stupid conversation. He was also sobering up fast.

Doyle moved closer. Bodie stood rooted to the floor, unable to speak, unable to think.

"What's a kiss between mates?" Doyle asked.

"Mates don't usually go around kissing each other," Bodie pointed out emphatically.

"Well, maybe they should," Doyle countered.

Bodie stared at him incredulously. "Since when have you been into kissing blokes, for fuck's sake?"

"Since I was 16!"

Bodie felt his world turn upside down. Here was the object of his desires, offering all he'd ever wanted on a plate. And he was hesitating, still unsure whether his partner was winding him up or not. He struggled to order his mind - he felt sober, but he knew he wasn't. What to do?

Doyle was staring at him defiantly. "What about you?"

"Eh?" Christ, surely he didn't know, did he?

"How old were you? And don't bother denying it."

"17," he heard himself reply. "How did you guess?" He had to know what had given him away.

Doyle smiled. "Last week when you got back to your place an' I was already there? Was tryin' out your video an' played a few of your tapes, but couldn't find anythin' interestin'. Then…"

Bodie felt the colour drain from his face, knowing what was coming…

"…I found a tape at the back of the tape drawer. Not a very good copy, I'll grant you, but I could see well-enough through the snow on the screen to make out what it was. Bodie with a porn tape full of poofs. Well I never, I thought. Who would've guessed? Not me, that's for sure." There was a strong note of accusation in his voice. "That would explain why you're always touchin' me up."

Bodie couldn't speak. He just stood there, looking dumbly at his partner.

"So, you gonna kiss me then?" he asked again, waggling the mistletoe above his head. "No need to play the shrinkin' violet now you know I know."

Instinct took over. Reaching out, Bodie pulled Doyle towards him, until they were closely embraced. Looking down at the familiar face inches away, he leant forward, expecting the start to be a tentative touch of lips. Instead Doyle pulled his head down and latched on hard, pushing his tongue into Bodie's mouth like a conqueror claiming new territory.

Bodie reciprocated with enthusiasm. It was wonderful, better than he'd ever dared imagine. Their tongues swirled around each other, flicking and probing. He sucked on Doyle's tongue, eliciting a satisfying gasp, nibbled his lips and kissed with loud sucking noises that he didn't need to get embarrassed about, because this was Ray.

As they kissed, Bodie could smell Doyle's aftershave, its presence explaining why his partner's skin was still smooth at that time of night. With his right hand, he ran his thumb along the rim of Doyle's ear, the other hand carding through soft curls. Surely he'd died and gone to heaven.

Physically aroused, he wanted more - wanted all of Doyle. Gently he pushed his pelvis against Doyle's and with a growing euphoria, felt an answering hardness. Doyle groaned against his mouth and thrust back. Afraid of pushing things too fast, he waited for his partner to make the next move. It was the bitter voice of experience that spoke to him - too often in the past he had tried to force Doyle's hand and had watched as his partner had put a stubborn foot down and refused to budge, even in the face of increasing evidence that it would be the better thing to do.

Their kiss seemed to go on for ever, changing in intensity back and forth from urgent tongues vying, to light nuzzling as both caught their breath, and then back to the urgency again. Bodie could have gone on all night, although his legs were threatening to give out under Doyle's wonderful onslaught.

Eventually Doyle pulled away, announcing he badly needed to take a piss. Bodie plonked himself down on the sofa and closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He could hardly believe it - his partner was as bent as he was. God, they'd wasted so much time. Still, he fully intended to make up for it now.

Bodie had no idea how long he'd sat there waiting for Doyle's return, but eventually his own bladder forced him to follow his partner's steps. The bathroom was empty, the light off. Christ, was he waiting in bed for him? Maybe he'd read him wrong and he was more eager than he'd thought. Walking to Doyle's bedroom door, he pushed it open and found that he was indeed in bed. Or rather, on it; crossways on his back, fully clothed, and from the slight snoring noises, apparently fast asleep. There wasn't even room for Bodie to lie beside him. Shit.

Making use of the facilities, he snagged a blanket from the airing cupboard and went back to the sofa.


	2. Chapter 2

Bodie woke up feeling cold and cramped, his head hurting and his bladder again demanding to be emptied before it did it itself - well, he'd had at least six pints, so what did he expect? To his disgust, he realised his mouth tasted like the bottom of a parrot's cage.

Although it was dark, his digital watch had a light. A check confirmed it was just gone seven o'clock. As late as that? It felt like the middle of the night. That was the way it was in midwinter - the shortest day in England meant only a few hours of daylight. It was worse in Scotland. The cold of winter and its long nights were about the only thing that made him miss Africa.

The room was illuminated by the light of a street lamp streaming in through an uncurtained window, morning barely a glimmer in the still-dark sky. As he lay there, he knew there was something important he had to remember. They'd had the annual Christmas night out with the lads, came back here….fuck! Memory returned in shocking detail. Him and Ray, snogging like a pair of rampant teenagers, the vivid image having an unwanted effect on his piss hard-on.

Forcing his muscles to move, he went to relieve himself and while there, snatched some paracetamol from the bathroom cabinet for his headache. On returning, he stood at the window, gazing outside. Freezing fog made the world appear ethereal, the effect exaggerated by the orange lights, so that everything seemed devoid of any real colour. A deep frost on the cars parked below sparkled as though they'd been coated in a fine layer of diamond dust.

Lights were on in the houses opposite, indicating signs of life, but his eye was drawn to a single window where fairy lights on a Christmas tree winked on and off with mesmerising regularity. His mind seemed to empty for a while as he stared at them for countless minutes, until a car driving down the road distracted him, its headlamps barely penetrating the thickening fog.

Since they were due in to HQ at nine, Bodie wondered whether to go and rouse Doyle. Something made him hold back. He wanted time to think before facing his partner. Besides, it was Sunday and Christmas Eve, so the roads would be empty until at least midday. No need to rush.

His head wasn't ready yet for bright lights, so he compromised by switching on the Christmas tree lights instead. He smiled as he did so, remembering how they'd come to buy the thing in the first place.

The previous week, they'd been on a case. Driving over to east London, yellow lines meant they had had to park the car some way from where they wanted to be. Walking back to the main road, Doyle had gone down some alleyway beside a small flower shop in search of one of his snitches, leaving him standing on the street corner waiting. While there, he'd caught sight of a pretty girl working in the shop and decided to go and chat her up while he waited. Trouble was, no sooner had he got inside, than some bloke had appeared from the back asking him what he wanted. Balking at the idea of walking all the way back to their car carrying a bunch of flowers, (and earning some serious piss-taking from his partner) he pointed to the Christmas trees outside. Selecting a particularly manky-looking one, he'd haggled and got a good price for it. The expression on Doyle's face when he'd reappeared had made it all worth it.

It had taken some doing to persuade Doyle to have the tree in his flat, but he'd eventually capitulated when Bodie had offered to buy all the decorations for it. Putting it up had been quite a laugh too. He'd been quite happy bunging tinsel and hanging decorations wherever there was a vacant branch, but Doyle, being the artistic perfectionist he was, had his own idea how it should all look. After some serious nagging, he'd happily conceded the job to Doyle, leaving him to watch his partner. Totally absorbed, Doyle carefully placed each ornament with due care and consideration.

It had been a fascinating experience. Watching his partner was a perennial hobby of his anyway, but more so when Doyle was being creative. As he saw it, he had no particular talents himself, so watching someone who had, he found to be an almost humbling experience. It was the dichotomy of Doyle - artistic and creative on the one hand, trained to kill on the other.

Once Doyle had completed decorating the tree, they had toasted it with wine that his partner had dug out of a secret supply (which Bodie made a mental note he wanted to find next time he was alone in the flat). The rest of the evening had been passed companionably, with their only venture out being to get an Indian take-away.

As Bodie stood staring at the tree and remembering, the ambient temperature of the room gradually made itself felt and he shuddered. Walking over to the sofa, he slumped down, wrapping the blanket he'd been using all night around his shoulders.

His mind shifted back to the present as he wondered where the kissed they'd shared now left them. He'd been fantasising about his partner since the day they'd met, so he couldn't help but view the events with some disbelief. Never had he suspected his partner of being bi - and goodness knows he'd looked closely enough. It seemed they were both consummate actors, for reading between the lines, he'd equally fooled Doyle.

A nagging doubt already plagued him. How would their becoming lovers affect their status in CI5? How would Cowley take it? Would he accept it? Would he allow them to continue on the squad? If yes, would they be allowed to share a place together? Homosexuality was a big no-no in the services and especially the secret services. Was it likely they'd become the target of attempted blackmail? Somehow, he had his doubts about it all.

"Fuck it!" shouted Doyle, his voice coming from his bedroom. A door slammed.

Ah, my partner awakes, thought Bodie with amusement, his train of thought thoroughly interrupted.

He wandered into the kitchen and putting on the kettle, prepared to make some coffee. It was going to have to be black, Bodie realised once he'd opened the fridge door. It was totally empty, save for a bottle of HP sauce and a few cans of lager - at least Ray's got his priorities right, he chuckled to himself. He opened a few cupboard doors and found little more exciting than some pasta and a small jar of marmite. So, nothing for breakfast then. Just as well; after all that beer, he wasn't hungry yet anyway.

As he poured the water into two mugs, Doyle limped in, still in the clothes he had worn the previous night. At the sight of his scruffy-looking partner, Bodie's heart-rate increased dramatically. He had it bad, and all last night had done was to add fuel to the fire already burning within him.

"Stubbed my toe on the bedroom door," Doyle explained. "That mine?"

Bodie handed him his coffee. "No milk."

"Yeah, meant to go to the shops yesterday, but we finished later than I thought we were going to. By the time I got back here, everything was shut and I needed to get ready for the drink-up."

He's rambling, Bodie realised. Talking for the sake of it. Must be nervous. He found that oddly heartening.

An uneasy silence fell over them. Doyle went and sat at the table, leaving him to lean against the worktop. Bodie needed space from this man who tempted him beyond all reason.

"Bodie…."

"Ray…" They spoke simultaneously.

"You first," said Bodie.

"No, go on…" insisted Doyle.

Shit, thought Bodie. What do I say? "I've been thinking…"

"Yeah, me too," admitted Doyle with a grin.

"…about last night. I'm not sure it was a good idea."

"No. That's what I've been thinkin' too," agreed Doyle. "It'd probably screw up our partnership if we got…well….involved."

"Yeah, you're probably right. And Cowley'd go through the roof if he found out."

"Where would it go if we got together? Once you got bored, you'd want to move on, and that would be our partnership out the window."

"Me? Bored?" Bodie felt unaccountably hurt at the suggestion.

"Face it, Bodie. You're not the committed type. I could probably count the number of your girlfriends who've lasted more than a month on one hand."

Bodie wanted to argue, but what was the point? They were both agreeing to the same thing anyway, so he let it ride. He needed to know one thing though…

"What happened to you last night? You disappeared."

"Went to the bog and felt a bit dizzy so I went an' lay down. Think I fell asleep."

Wasn't that interested then, Bodie concluded. He'd've put the dizziness down to lack of oxygen from all their snogging. Damn, don't think about that, he chastised himself.

"Can I use your shower?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"After me you can, yeah. Don't trust you to leave me enough hot water." With that, he knocked back the last of his coffee and wandered out of the kitchen, leaving a contemplative Bodie behind.

As he stared at the space Doyle had occupied, he wondered why it was that after both had independently come to the same conclusion and formed a mutual agreement, he didn't feel better. Actually, if he was totally honest, he felt worse.

He supposed it was because before last night, he could fantasise about Doyle as much as he wanted (and he did, a lot), but ultimately, he'd believed his partner to be unattainable, no matter what. Now he knew that not to be the case and it frustrated the hell out of him. If not for circumstances, Doyle could have been his for the asking and the thought made his soul ache.

That kiss. Passionate barely described it. It had gone on and on, but not long enough. Sweet and tender, hard and erotic, their tongues had met and danced together, explored together. What else could Ray's tongue do…?

Bodie shook himself out of his reverie, his cock rock-hard at the memory.

Fuck. Why was he torturing himself like this? They'd come to a decision and he had to stick by it. Carrying on like this was going to send him round the twist pretty quickly. That's if he hadn't already died when his balls exploded from sheer frustration.

His thoughts were interrupted. "All yours mate," came Doyle's voice, as it drifted down the hallway.

I wish, Bodie thought automatically.

As he left the kitchen, he was already unbuttoning his shirt. Glancing up, he gasped as he saw Doyle heading for his bedroom. Naked. Naked! for crying out loud! And the change of clothes he needed was in Doyle's bedroom. He waited a decent interval and breathed an almost audible sigh of relief when he found Doyle already in a pair of jeans holding up two socks at the window.

"These look the same to you?"

"Yeah, apart from one's black and the other's navy blue." Snagging his holdall he headed for the door.

"Thought it was a trick of the light," Doyle explained. "No-one'll notice," he added with a grin and dropping onto the side of the bed, started pulling one on. Bodie rolled his eyes. There was no hope for the man.

The bathroom was still steamy and warm as he stripped. Once in the shower, the idea of a quick wank crossed his mind, but the water began to turn suspiciously cool just after he got in, making him decide against it. On stepping out, he discovered that the only towel in the bathroom was the one Doyle had just used, which was lying in a damp heap on the floor beside the bath. Picking it up, he put it to his face and breathed deeply, inhaling amongst the soap and shampoo fragrances, the faint smell of Doyle. With a smile, he began to dry himself, and the knowledge that it had recently been rubbed over his partner's naked body caused a shiver to run down his spine and his cock to lift. Doyle's intimate caress by proxy. Nice.

Disgustingly cheerful. That was the only description he could think of when he encountered Doyle in the living room. His partner was fiddling with a couple of the Christmas tree ornaments and for some reason, was wearing a stupid grin.

"Ready?" Bodie asked, not wanting to spend any more time than he had to alone with his partner. He had way too much on his mind and his proximity was giving him cause for concern. He stared at Doyle's arse, clad in jeans that, as usual, looked like they'd been sprayed on. His prick twitched. Shit.

Bodie was thankful it was his turn to drive. Having to concentrate with the fog meant his mind couldn't dwell on the object of his desire beside him. It didn't help that when Doyle had climbed in, he'd closed his eyes and gone all boneless, his legs splayed tantalisingly. To distract his thoughts, Bodie put on the radio, to find Capital playing all the Christmas songs. Despite Doyle's unflattering remarks, Bodie enthusiastically sang along. "Simply having a wonderful Christmas time…" he sang along with Paul McCartney.

Why did everyone act so daft at Christmas? Still singing with the radio, they were sitting at some traffic lights when Bodie glanced at the car next to him. The driver was also singing along, obviously tuned in to the same programme. Catching his eye, the two of them sang to each other, silly grins on their faces. "So here it is, Merry Christmas, everybody's having fun! Look to the future now, it's only just begun…!"

If it hadn't been so foggy, Bodie would have burned the guy up at the lights. His Capri and the other bloke's Opel were well matched, except for the hidden extras courtesy of CI5 under their bonnet which would have left him standing. Never mind.

At HQ, with so many of the agents milling around, it was obvious things were quiet. They arrived just in time to walk straight into their 9 o'clock briefing, where Cowley put the two of them on 12-hour standby. Doyle blamed him for being given that duty after he'd made a comment suggesting that nothing much was happening because all the villains had gone away for Christmas holidays. It had raised a laugh from other members of the squad, but apparently The Cow hadn't thought it very funny. The only other thing Bodie could think of closer to purgatory, was 12 hours in the records department. Fortunately, his little joke hadn't been that bad.

The rest room wasn't. Rather, the moment the briefing was over, everyone poured into it so that by the time they arrived, it was buzzing with animated chatter. In an attempt to bring some Christmas cheer to the hallowed halls of CI5, various members of the squad had brought in some old decorations. Mismatched paper chains vied with streamers and tinsel in a gaudy combination that Doyle had already indicated he found visually distressing.

"Bloody good party last night, Murph!" said Anson as he slapped the man in question on the back. "How did you know about the hen night?"

Murphy grinned. "My cousin's the maid of honour. She nearly killed me when we showed up."

"And where did you disappear to last night?" Doyle asked Murphy with a wink. "Heard you got away with that brunette in the leathers."

"Karen. Yeah," grinned Murphy. "I managed to whisk her away before your partner here got his claws in."

"An' deprived him of the snog of the night, by all accounts," Doyle grinned back.

"Oh I wouldn't say that," Bodie replied without thinking.

Doyle stared at him as Anson added, "The one I saw you kissing looked a bit rough."

"Bloody hell, did everyone see that?" he wondered aloud.

"Karen said she wouldn't kiss him until he'd kissed her best mate," Murphy explained to Anson and the growing group listening in. "No-one had gone near her all night. So Bodie, bless him, was feeling just about desperate enough, and did. But by the time he was through, we'd gone." Murphy chuckled at the memory.

Trying to deflect some of the attention away from one of those moments in his life he preferred not to be remembered by, he leered at Murphy and asked, "Bet you had some fun peeling off those trousers, didn't you?"

"Karen," his colleague replied haughtily, "is my cousin. That's why I got her away. Was protecting her from the likes of you, you dirty beggar."

A laugh went up in the room and a moment later, everyone was chattering again, relaying their own anecdotes of the night, many somewhat embellished.

It struck Bodie at that moment as being quite comical, that despite what had gone on the previous night behind Doyle's closed door, to the squad, he was about as heterosexually macho as you can get. It'd probably shock them down to their toes if they knew the truth.

After five hours of good cheer, Bodie was about climbing the walls and praying something catastrophic would happen so they could actually do something. In the end, he escaped to an empty office - on Christmas Eve, only a skeleton admin staff was in. With a sigh of relief, he sat down and wasn't very surprised when the door opened a moment later.

"Had enough?" Doyle asked him, snagging a nearby chair.

"Can only take so much," he confirmed. "Don't know why they're all so bloody lively."

Blissful silence reigned. That's what he liked about Doyle. Well, one of the things. Always knew how to handle him… he stifled a giggle before it emerged: unfortunate choice of words. With that thought, he glanced up at Doyle to find himself being watched. His partner's eyes slid away.

Wonder what he's thinking. About last night, maybe? There was one thing he had to know. He realised, like picking a scab, that it would probably make him feel worse, but he had to ask. He just had to find out.

"Does Cowley know about you?" he asked suddenly.

Doyle's surprise was very evident. Yet the fact that he obviously knew what Bodie meant was perhaps an indication as to where his thoughts were also currently lying.

"Yeah. You?"

"Didn't put it on the application form, but I told him in the first interview."

"What did he say to it?" Doyle asked.

"That I couldn't take up with another bloke while I was on the squad."

"Said the same to me," Doyle confirmed. "He said if the lover turned out to be working for some foreign agency, I'd be much more open to blackmail than if I stuck with women. I told him 'fair enough' and I've stuck to it."

"Me too," Bodie confirmed.

"17?" Doyle asked unexpectedly.

"Bit of a late starter compared to you," Bodie said, smiling.

"Was only a year younger. He was the butchest bloke in the school. Best athlete - had a stack of trophies an' medals competin' for the county."

Bodie went perfectly quiet and watched as Doyle stood up and went to look out the window, not missing a beat in his reminiscences.

"We used to run together a lot - long distance. It was the only thing I could compete with him on an equal footin'. Mind you," he added turning a moment to face Bodie with a smile, "I could trounce him at judo." He turned back to the window. "He liked to play rugger an' practised at a local ground. I sometimes ran around the pitch a few times while he practised with the others. One day, he got the times mixed up an' we were the only two there. After an hour, we went back to the changin' room an' he filled the big bath as usual, only there were just the two of us in it. All that hot, soapy water. We started messin' about, dunkin' each other an' wrestlin' an' then he went all serious, grabbed my hand and wrapped it round his cock. He was rock hard. So was I…"

Me too, Bodie thought with an inward groan.

"An' then he kissed me."

Doyle turned at the sound of Bodie's chair scraping on the wooden floor. Bodie was halfway out the door when he heard his name.

"Back in a mo," Bodie assured his partner.

Inside the toilet cubicle, he pulled down his trousers and pants, and with one hand cradling his balls, grabbed hold of his rampant cock with the other and began pumping. It wasn't going to take much…

Seconds later, he stopped when he heard the main toilet door open, and felt his balls in the palm of his hand shrivel in dismay at not getting the release they were demanding.

"Bodie," Doyle called.

Fuck it. "What?"

"You havin' a wank?"

Bodie's heart was in his throat. "No I'm not," he answered emphatically. "I'm having a dump."

"Liar. Your voice sounds strange. I know what you're up to."

Bodie didn't answer.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I need one too. All that talk…"

Bodie heard the door to the next cubicle close, the bolt latch. Had his hearing suddenly become more acute? He could hear his partner's flies opening and then a sigh.

Christ almighty, Ray was going to have a wank in the next stall!

He looked down at his own cock still standing to attention, the eye staring at him hopefully. He heard Doyle groan and, as he wrapped his fist around his own cock, he groaned too. The noises coming from Doyle's direction were unmistakable and no doubt his partner was hearing something similar.

His fist was a blur, his mind intent on what Doyle was doing to himself only feet away, trying to imagine his partner with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, as it seeped precum...

"Do you hold your balls when you wank?" Doyle asked, his voice all breathy.

Bodie stopped dead, so close. Did Ray really just ask him that? "Yeah," he heard himself reply.

"Me too," said Doyle.

That did it for Bodie. One pull and with a whimper, he came hard, five shots of semen spurting out.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh," moaned his partner softly a moment later, and then it went quiet, save for the panting breaths of the two men.

"Needed that," Doyle said finally, his voice little more than a sigh.

When Doyle came to stand next to him as they washed their hands, Bodie found himself unable to look his partner in the eye. God knows why he felt embarrassed, but he did.

There was no way he wanted to stay alone with Doyle at that time, so he headed back towards the rest room, his partner in tow. Once there, amongst their colleagues, a sense of normality descended.

"Anyone sent out for food?" Doyle asked.

"No. You offering?" Murphy asked. Nine pairs of hopeful eyes turned on Doyle.

"Only if you lot give us the money up front."

"Will anywhere be open?" McCabe asked. "Sunday and Christmas Eve isn't a good combination."

"Manny's is open," said Lucas. "I checked with him last week. He doesn't celebrate Christmas and having three ministries, the Admiralty and us within walking distance, he's probably doing a roaring trade today."

The next five minutes were spent taking orders and money from everyone.

Doyle stopped at the door. "You comin'?" he asked his partner.

Bodie felt a pang of guilt. "Nah, not going out in that freezing weather if I don't have to."

"Fair enough," answered Doyle, his face closed as he left the room.

Shit. He didn't want to upset his partner, but right now, he didn't know what to say to him after what they'd just done. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed it, it was trying to get his head around what was going on between them. They'd agreed that they wouldn't take it any further, hadn't they? Doyle had been as adamant as he had, even to the point of accusing him of being unable to form lasting commitments.

"What did you think of that redhead last night?" asked Murphy, breaking into his chain of thought.

"Nice snogger," Bodie replied automatically.

Murphy grinned at the assessment. "Got a date with her, day after Boxing Day. Karen set it up."

"Handy having her around," he remarked with a leer. "Has she got any other friends?"

"Look, if you're interested in Karen, I could set up a double date - I know she fancied you. I didn't really take her off to get away from you. She said she was feeling a bit sick, so I got her a cab home."

Bodie grinned. "Nah, thanks anyway mate."

Murphy looked confused. Bodie never turned down a nice date like that. "You sure?" he checked.

"Positive."

"What you got up your sleeve?" Murphy asked curiously.

"Secret," replied Bodie, tapping his nose. If only you knew, he thought to himself.

When Bodie sat down in a vacant chair, he found out why it was unoccupied, as it wobbled precariously. Sitting very still, he started to leaf through a car magazine someone had left on the table. He was still there when Doyle returned, his face all flushed in the warm room after his brisk walk in the cold winter air.

As everyone made a beeline for the bag of sandwiches, Bodie jumped up and headed for an armchair, still warm from McCabe's body. The latest edition of Playboy sat on the arm with a picture of a blond, pouting bunny girl in a red satin outfit and hat trimmed with white fur, a red bow-tie at her neck..

"Now why couldn't she have delivered my presents when I was a kid?" he asked no-one in particular.

Lucas chuckled as he walked over, munching happily on an egg mayonnaise roll. "Forget the presents, I'd've settled just for her."

"Good point…"

"Oi!" came McCabe's indignant voice. "That's my ruddy chair."

"Was," Bodie beamed back. "Possession is nine tenths of the law. Tell you what, I'll let you have my old chair in return."

McCabe scowled when he realised which one Bodie meant.

"Catch mate," shouted Doyle and threw a bag at Bodie.

"Ta, Ray. Hope you didn't get me hedgehog again."

"Nah, they were out of hedgehog," replied Doyle with a happy grin. "Got hamster instead."

"Which one do you fancy?" Lucas asked, pointing at the magazine.

Bodie flicked through it twice and then made his choice.

"Take the tits away," said McCabe as he studied the picture with a grin, "and cut a few inches off her hair and that could be Doyle."

Bodie stared at the picture and realised McCabe was right. The girl he had picked had bright green eyes set off by her dark curly hair and pale complexion.

"Let's have a butchers," said Doyle and perched on the right the arm of the chair.

Bodie was inordinately conscious of his partner leaning against him, feeling every inch of contact between their bodies. Having just been out, Doyle felt very warm and that warmth seemed to be seeping through to Bodie's very bones. Ever so casually, he leant his elbow on Doyle's left thigh, ostensibly to show him the picture they were referring to. Doyle gently tugged on the magazine, pulling it higher for a closer look, his hand just happening to brush Bodie's in the process. Bodie felt a tingle of electricity as their bare flesh met.

"Nah, can't see it myself. I'm much prettier than that!" Doyle pronounced.

Some devil got hold of Bodie's tongue for a moment, as he heard himself say in front of all his colleagues, "What would I want with her when I've got you at my side!" Looking up at Doyle with a beatific smile, he batted his eyelashes. 

As a sense of disbelief descended upon him that he'd just come out with that, he noticed that for a split second, Doyle was utterly fazed. With a quick recovery, his partner began to clown.

"Ooh, give us a kiss, duck!"

"Oh all right, you smooth-talking bastard," Bodie lisped. With that, he grabbed hold of the back of his partner's head, pulled him down and with a loud smacking noise, planted a kiss on his mouth. Doyle overbalanced and ended up in a grinning Bodie's lap, in fits of giggles.

All but one in the room erupted into laughter at their antics. "Oh for godsake, when are you two going to grow up?" asked Lewis in disgust. "Or have the pair of you gone queer for each other now?"

Anson laughed even more. "The day those two go queer for each other is the day I eat my cigar."

This final comment set Bodie off, not helped by the sight of Doyle, now in uncontrollable fits, slowly sliding down his outstretched legs to the floor. Anson beamed happily at them, pleased they found his remark so funny.


	3. Chapter 3

The evening was going well. The night before Christmas, cases permitting, George Cowley treated all CI5 personnel to a night out, usually taking over an entire pub. The buffet and drinks were paid for out of his own pocket. Any staff unable to attend because of work commitments always received a bottle of malt as recompense. Cowley's Christmas party was one of his few generous gestures to his loyal squad each year.

The official 'do' always stood in contrast to the unofficial one. Unlike the previous night, everyone remained more or less sober while under the watchful eye of the CI5 Controller, a sense of decorum prevailing. Cowley was well aware of the existence of the alternative Christmas party, understanding that his team were far more comfortable letting their hair down when he wasn't around.

The pub they were in tonight was one of several frequented by CI5 staff. The architecture was typical of Victorian London: very spacious, with high, ornate ceilings in each bar. Being called the Marquis of Queensbury, the pub had a pugilistic theme, with pictures of boxers adorning the red flock wallpapered walls. Prize possession behind the bar was a signed photograph of Henry Cooper.

"Drink sir?" said Bodie, handing Cowley a glass of his favourite malt. The pub bought it in especially for their famous customer. Bodie hadn't been counting, but he guessed it was his boss' fifth or sixth malt. However many, he was definitely getting mellow.

"Thank you, Bodie," he said, holding the drink up to the light and turning it as though he were inspecting it for impurities.

"Don't think I've seen this many of the squad at the Christmas Eve drink-up before."

"Perhaps you were right after all, Bodie. Maybe all the villains have gone away for Christmas. It's a nice thought."

"Does that mean me and Ray can have the day off tomorrow?" he asked hopefully. It wasn't their turn to have Christmas off and both he and Cowley knew it.

"No. As you well know, you're still on standby and that isn't going to change. Complacency kills, Bodie. We always have to be prepared." Perhaps it was something in Bodie's face which made him add more quietly, "As long as the two of you are together, there's no reason why you couldn't do it from one or other of your flats, though. Beginning at fifteen hundred hours."

"Thank you sir. It's appreciated," said Bodie gratefully, and meant it. They had been due to start at 08:00, so he was well pleased. As Cowley turned to talk to Macklin, he looked around the room for Doyle, wanting to let his partner know the good news. His eyes settled on him, chatting animatedly to Murphy. Ray looked….gorgeous.

He'd fancied his partner from the first day they'd been teamed together. But at that time, the attraction was purely physical. Quite when Doyle had managed to get under his skin, he couldn't say. For most of his life, he had never allowed anyone to get too close to him - until Doyle. His partner had managed to break down the carefully erected barriers, burrowing his way into his affections, first through trust, then respect and finally an ever-deepening friendship.

Doyle had been right in his assessment of him. Involvement did bring what he had formerly considered to be unwanted commitments. What his partner seemed to have failed to understand was that his lack of commitment to his past relationships was of his choosing. He had given his unswerving commitment to CI5 for the past three years and intended to continue to do so. This too, he did out of choice.

Having been forced into independence at a tender age he had, in the past, always valued it too highly to compromise it. The one previous exception had been Marikka, and the memory of her senseless death still caused him pain. The depth of his feelings now for Doyle, and the compromises and even commitment he knew he would be willing to make, unnerved him.

Yet, the possibility that those feelings could be reciprocated was something he simply didn't want to contemplate. They had both come to the same decision that a physical involvement was unwise, and despite what his heart yearned to have, his head ruled.

As Bodie stood against the wall, just enjoying the pleasure of watching his partner, Cowley's voice broke through his reverie. "Don't broadcast it to the world, lad," he said quietly. "You never know who's watching."

Before Bodie could say a word, his boss had turned to accept another drink.

Broadcast what? Bodie wondered as he stared at the back of Cowley's head. What on earth was he on about?

"Something wrong?" Anson asked as he reached his side in a dense cloud of cigar smoke.

"What? Oh, nah. Just something the Cow said."

"What was that then?"

The comment still puzzled him and since he hadn't understood Cowley's meaning, he lied about what was bothering him. "He's got me 'n' Doyle on standby tomorrow."

"And that shocked you?" Anson asked disbelievingly. "You already knew that."

"Oh it wasn't that bit," Bodie grinned. "It was when he said we could do it from one of our flats and he's changing the start time from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, that I started doing my impersonation of a fly-catcher."

"You," said Anson, prodding him in the chest, "are lucky you're Uncle George's favourite."

"Someone has to be," beamed Bodie. "May as well be me."

Before Anson could offer his opinion on the subject, they were interrupted by the barman ringing the bell for last orders.

Bodie pushed his way through the crowd to where Doyle stood with Murphy and, putting a friendly arm around his shoulders, told him the good news.

"Lucky sods," Murphy grinned. "Why is it you two always end up landing on your feet?"

"We can have Christmas dinner before we start our standby!" suggested Doyle.

"Right. Except I can tell you I've got sod-all to eat in my flat, and we cleared yours out last night."

"We can drive over to Earl's Court an' pick somethin' up there at one of those 24 hour places, an' then go back to my place."

"Suppose we could try," Bodie conceded, inwardly doubtful they'd have much luck. "Anyone for a drink before it shuts?"

"Nah, not me mate," said Doyle. "I've been takin' it easy so I can drive home in one piece."

Murphy held up a nearly full glass. "Just got one, ta all the same."

 

Through the day, the fog had lifted to reveal heavy skies and the temperature had continued to plummet. As they had stepped out of the warm pub, Bodie noticed that a nearby puddle caused by a broken pipe had turned to ice. Now, sitting in the passenger seat while Doyle finished scraping the windscreen, he began to shiver.

"Fuck, it's freezing," he stated unnecessarily, as Doyle climbed in.

"This is freezin'," Doyle grinned as he touched the back of his hand to Bodie's face.

It was cold as ice. "I can think of a few ways to warm your hands up," Bodie, unable to stop himself, said with a leer.

"Nah. It'll only make it hard to drive," Doyle grinned back.

Bodie studied Doyle as he started the car, wondering whether the double entendre was deliberate or not. Knowing his partner, it probably was.

Once in Earl's Court, it didn't take them long to find a small Lebanese grocery shop still open. They bundled out.

"You are having good luck," the proprietor said in a thick accent, once they'd told him what they were after. "I kept last turkey for my customer today. But she didn't arrive. It is yours for a good price."

Getting a basket, they filled it with all the things they'd need to keep them going over Christmas, and if they were lucky enough not to get called, Boxing Day too. Doyle, noted Bodie as his partner busied himself selecting vegetables, seemed inordinately happy.

And so was the shopkeeper when he presented them with a bill.

"How much?" Doyle balked.

The owner shrugged, unconcerned. "We are open 24 hours. And it is Christmas," he said, as if that was a satisfactory explanation.

"So what! That's daylight bleedin' robbery!" complained Doyle.

Bodie, not wanting to make a fuss, pulled out his wallet and handed the man a twenty pound note. Even as he handed it over, he knew the probability of getting any money later from his partner was not worth calculating. Maybe it was because Doyle came from a large family where money was always short, that made him so tight-fisted, Bodie thought generously.

After stopping off briefly at Bodie's flat to pick up fresh clothes, they continued onto Doyle's place. The silence between them hung heavy in the air, making Bodie feel tense. "'S been a weird day," he said, eventually.

"Yeah," Doyle agreed.

He wanted Doyle to say more. Wanted to know what Doyle was thinking. Things had changed between them, but Doyle had made it clear he thought any kind of physical relationship between them would ultimately be detrimental to their partnership. And he himself couldn't see how they would be allowed to keep their jobs if there was more between them. He gave voice to his thoughts. "We made the right decision this morning, didn't we?"

"Eh?" said Doyle, changing down gears as they approached a red light.

"About not getting involved," Bodie clarified.

"Oh. Yeah."

Doyle was in one of his uncommunicative moods, Bodie decided, and gave up talking.

At the mansion block, Bodie was left to carry the bags of shopping as Doyle strode ahead to open the door. Being a lot more sober than the previous night, his partner had it open by the time he got to the entrance. Switching on the light, Doyle forged ahead up the stairs, leaving him to follow in his wake. He was halfway up the last flight when the lights went out, but Doyle had already got his own door open, with light from his hallway streaming out to guide him.

In the kitchen, they unpacked the shopping in silence, leaving the turkey to defrost on the draining board.

"I'm knackered," Doyle announced suddenly. "See you in the morning." With that, he strode off towards the bathroom, leaving Bodie staring at the empty space he'd been occupying.

While Doyle finished up in the bathroom, Bodie wandered into the living room, the smell of pine gently assaulting him. He inhaled the fresh smell. Feeling down, he switched on the Christmas tree lights and spent some time making up his bed on the sofa. After availing himself of the bathroom facilities, he stood in the living room doorway, staring at Doyle's closed bedroom door opposite, wondering at Doyle's mood on the way home.

With a yawn, he turned to the living room. After undressing down to his underpants, he climbed into his makeshift bed and to keep him company, he elected to keep the fairy lights on.

Sleep eluded him as his mind raced over the events of the past 24 hours. Whether they wanted it or, for better or for worse, things had definitely changed between them. The facts were unassailable. The wank in the toilet. He couldn't imagine Doyle doing something like that before last night. Whether his partner was willing to admit it or not, the kiss had changed both of them, had altered forever the chemistry between them. And there was no going back on that. His cock hardening at the memory, he touched himself through his underpants, eliciting a quiet moan.

But it wasn't his hand he wanted there. It was Doyle's. The idea that his partner was as experienced with men as he was, sent a frisson of excitement through him. His hand snaked inside his pants.

All at once, he came to a shocking realisation. Ray was more important to him than the job. He didn't care if they lost it, if they could just be together.

But his partner didn't want that, so he was just going to have to settle for what they did have. Surely the ache he felt, wanting to hold Doyle in his arms, wanting to make love with him, would diminish.

And he could still have his fantasies. He gripped himself firmly, trying to imagine how Ray would hold him. He stopped. If he was going to go through with this, he would need some loo paper.

With a sigh, he got up and headed for the door.

As he opened it, he was confronted by a naked Doyle emerging from his bedroom. Enough light was streaming through the bedroom door for him to see that Doyle had a hard-on that matched his own. They both froze, Doyle looking startled.

While taking in the beauty of Doyle's body, lithe in the peak of fitness, not an ounce of excess fat, Bodie's eyes were drawn towards the dark thatch of hair at his groin from which his cock extended, as if reaching out to him. He couldn't take his eyes off it. After long moments, he finally looked up to see Doyle staring at his own cloth-covered cock, unconsciously licking his lips. Their eyes met. Bodie saw in them a plea to make the decision for them.

Without hesitation, he silently dropped to his knees before Doyle and moved his head forward until his mouth was inches from his partner's cock. He stared at a single, clear drop of moisture on the tip for a moment, and then with a flick of his tongue, licked it away.

Doyle's intake of breath was audible. The body before him began to tremble.

At that moment, Bodie felt more powerful than he ever had in his life. Feral eyes raked Doyle's body, a hunger shining in his face. Doyle had been taken by no man for more than three years and he knew, in that moment, that he was going to end that abstinence. He was going to possess Doyle, body and soul.

From that one drop, he savoured the tart flavour of Doyle for a moment, and then slowly moved his head forward, taking the crown into his mouth, tonguing its spongy surface. He sucked. Above him, Doyle groaned. Breathing in, he inhaled the scent of Doyle, a muskiness that was like a drug to him, setting his senses alight and his cock on fire.

With his right hand, he gripped the rigid length, with the other he took hold of Doyle's balls. One suck and Doyle began to thrust. Bodie held his hips firm. He was going to control. Doyle whimpered, but acquiesced. Suppressing his gag reflex, he took the cock deep into his mouth, until he reached the root. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled back along the shaft, feeling it throb in his mouth. With one hand, he moved between Doyle's thighs, a finger searching for the pucker of muscle. As his mouth moved once again down Doyle's length, he pushed the tip of his finger inside. The cock jumped in his mouth, its owner groaning, whispering his name over and over.

The muscle spasmed around his finger. He was tight. Too tight, Bodie realised, just for spit. He'd need to get something more to lubricate him. Reluctant to break the moment, but equally unwilling to hurt Doyle, he stood up. Doyle looked confused for a second, but the look in Bodie's eyes spoke of trust. Doyle's face cleared, though the passion was still there.

Bodie walked swiftly to the bathroom and searching the cabinet, found some hand cream which would do. Quickly removing his underpants, he returned to find Doyle exactly where he'd left him, eyes closed, backlit body leaning against the jamb, his cock outstretched, as though it were begging for completion. His breathing was more even than it had been.

Discarding the lotion bottle for the present, Bodie knelt at Doyle's feet. Taking just the cockhead into his mouth, he sucked, his tongue pressing and flicking against the sensitive underside. Doyle shuddered and gasped and from the precum oozing steadily from the small slit, Bodie knew his lover was close. Holding Doyle's hip with one hand, he took his balls in the other, gently rolling them in rhythm to his sucking. Doyle cried out, exploding into his mouth. He swallowed avidly every last drop.

As Doyle caught his breath, Bodie knelt back on his haunches and, picking up the lotion, began to cover his cock in the oily fluid. Aware that it was the first time Doyle had seen his cock erect now that he'd discarded his underpants, and knowing he was being closely watched, he made a show of applying the lotion, his hand slowly sliding from tip to base and back. Taking hold of Doyle's hips, he gently urged him to turn. Doyle obviously knew what was coming, as he took up a brace position, his legs wide apart. There was a terrible vulnerability in that pose, yet it spoke of a deep trust.

Bodie stood up and spreading Doyle's buttocks, gently inserted an oily finger into the tight, hot channel. The thought of it around his cock nearly made him come. Shaking with the effort of fighting for control, he pushed a second finger in. Not a murmur from Doyle now, the only sound his own ragged breaths. A third finger joined the others as the muscles quickly relaxed. Bodie knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. Doyle grunted as he slowly slid it in. After an eternity, he was fully sheathed, his hard, flat pelvis pressed against Doyle's soft buttocks.

All the fantasies he had ever imagined could not compare with the real thing, every sense overwhelmed by the experience. He didn't dare move, wanting to savour the moment. But Doyle had other ideas and rocked forward and back experimentally. Now it was Doyle, Bodie realised, who had the power.

Holding on to Doyle's hips for anchorage, he allowed his lover to set the rhythm. Gripped along his entire length, it was a sublime moment as he felt Doyle draw him out, each thrust eliciting a groan of pleasure so intense, it was almost pain.

Yes…yes…yes…yes… An uncontrollable litany. His climax was close, his balls on fire, lifting, contracting as they slapped against Doyle's; and then he was coming, gushing, pouring his heart and soul into Doyle as he called out, "Ray!"

With his heart thudding in his chest, he suddenly felt weak, but fought the need to lean against lover. Doyle must be uncomfortable as it is, he thought. After placing a small kiss on Doyle's back, he gently pulled out.

Both headed for the bathroom to clean up. Still not a word was spoken, but when they were done, it was Doyle who first broke their tacit vow of silence. "Come to bed?" he whispered and held out his hand to Bodie.

The utterly open and trusting look on Doyle's face made Bodie catch his breath. Taking Doyle's hand, they walked together to the bedroom. Pausing to see which side Doyle would take, Bodie climbed into the bed and lay facing his lover. His lover. He liked the sound of that. For a long time, they just lay there, looking at each other, the only point of contact, their clasped hands.

It was Doyle who made the first move. Rolling towards him and half lying on him, Doyle covered his mouth with his own, his tongue ravaging his mouth. This kiss spoke not of hunger, but of affection and acceptance, of an open-ended promise. Bodie's strong arms engulfed Doyle, holding him tight.

Eventually, Doyle pulled back and laid his head on Bodie's chest, an arm and leg casually flung across him. Contentment and fulfilment suffused their very beings. In the silence of the room, the last thing they heard before sleep took them, was a distant church clock striking two.


	4. Chapter 4

When Bodie woke up, he found himself wrapped in Doyle who was already awake. Doyle looked up and propped his chin on Bodie's chest with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Bodie."

Bodie clasped him by the shoulders and hauling him up towards him, kissed him gently but thoroughly. "Merry Christmas, Ray," he said when they finally pulled apart.

Doyle ran his fingers through Bodie's short hair. "Last night was…incredible!"

"Yeah it was," Bodie agreed.

"I never knew it would be that good."

"You underestimated my sexual prowess?" said Bodie, trying not to sound hurt.

"Never really thought about it that way. I always expected it'd be painful," Doyle explained.

It took a moment for the meaning of the comment to register. Bodie sat up abruptly, causing Doyle to roll off him in a heap with an 'oof'. A look of consternation on his face, he grabbed Doyle by his upper arms. "You've never done it before? Anal sex?" he clarified. His heart was hammering hard.

"No, last night was the first time. Never fancied tryin' it before," Doyle said, matter-of-factly.

"Shit. I could've hurt you… damaged you. I thought…" Bodie's voice catching in his throat was testament to his distress at what he had done. He had just assumed… Broke the first rule. Never assume.

"Bodie! Bodie!" Doyle said, shaking him to get his attention. "I'm not made of glass. I enjoyed it, you berk. Was fantastic! Just about the most erotic thing I've ever done. You all silent and powerful and macho was the biggest turn-on I've had in my life."

"You mean that?" Bodie said, still looking worried, needing the reassurance.

"Right out of a fantasy, mate. I've always gone for the more muscly blokes; like the idea of all that strength. You, last night, were a fuckin' walkin' wet-dream."

Bodie's relief was almost palpable. He grinned ruefully. "Thought the same thing about you, Ray. The sight of you standing there last night in all your naked glory, with a hard-on… I just couldn't help myself."

Doyle grinned. "Got somethin' for you," he said, his eyes sparkling. "But first I need the bog. Back in a mo…"

With that he bounded off the bed and disappeared out the door. Bodie took his time to get up, stretching. His balls felt itchy, making him frown. He needed a shower. Maybe they could have one together before they opened their presents. That made him thing again. Ray's got a pressie for me. He actually went and got something. Bloody hell, will wonders never cease?

Hearing the toilet flush, he made his way towards the bathroom.

"I need a shower, and I'm starved," said Bodie prosaically to Doyle as he came out. "Care to join me?"

"Don't need askin' twice," said Doyle, doing a 180 degree turn.

Doyle got the shower going to the right temperature, while Bodie relieved himself. A moment later, he joined Doyle in the bath under the water. "Bloody hell," he said, grinning, "You 'n' me are going to have to run around under this thing just to get wet!"

Doyle tried to soap Bodie. "How can you get a lather up with that bare chest of yours?" he asked plaintively.

"Try rubbing it down here," Bodie said with a leer, and pulled Doyle's hand downwards.

"Well, I would, but I'm afraid of gettin' stabbed with that thing!" he explained, pointing to Bodie's erection.

"'S all right. It won't bite," Bodie grinned.

"No?"

"Tell you what," Bodie said, waggling his eyebrows, "if you blow on it hard enough, it'll go down!" 

Doyle dropped to his knees. "Like this?" he asked as his hot mouth encased Bodie's cock.

Bodie's leant against the wall, his breaths hissing from between clenched teeth. He closed his eyes for a moment and it felt as if the whole universe centred on Doyle's mouth and the wonderful things it was doing to his prick.

A tongued swirled around then pushed against the vein, making him buck. Another hand cradled his balls and rolled them gently.

"Ray!" he cried out. It had been so long since a man had done that to him - and the feel was so different when the person doing it knew how it felt. As water cascaded down them both, Bodie looked down at the unbelievable sight of Ray enthusiastically giving him a blow job. He knew he wouldn't last long. The sensations built up, the dam about to burst, pressure increasing, erupting, semen spurted across Doyle's tongue.

As he came to, he realised he had Doyle's head in a tight grip and let go. "Fucking hell, that was amazing, Ray," he said as soon as he got his breath back. Ready to reciprocate, he noticed Doyle was flaccid. "Oh," he said, disappointed.

Doyle grinned. "My mouth on you and my hand on me!" he explained. "Couldn't wait. See? There it goes down the plug 'ole!"

Bodie laughed and gripping Doyle's shoulders, pulled him up for a tender kiss, noting the taste of himself in his lover's mouth. Their tongues danced and twirled until they both felt the shower cooling.

"Shit! Not much hot water left."

With that, they quickly and efficiently washed.

Bodie was handed a towel from a small, concealed cupboard. "Oh, that's where you keep them," he said in passing.

"What did you use yesterday?" Doyle wondered aloud.

"The one you'd just used."

"Ugh," Doyle shuddered. "Was all wet."

"Yeah, and smelled of you," Bodie said, his eyes twinkling. "Made up for it."

"Nutter!" he said affectionately. Grabbing his bathrobe, he walked across the hall to the kitchen.

"Bodie!" Doyle shouted suddenly.

Bodie shot into the kitchen. "What?" he said, looking around to see what was amiss.

"It's been snowin'!" said Doyle excitedly. "Bloody 'ell! A white Christmas!"

Bodie gulped with relief and stared out of the window. "White Christmas? That's not even half an inch there, mate!" he said, disappointed. A carpet of snow covered the apartment block's garden, thin enough that the green lawn showed through in areas near bushes and trees. "Not enough to build a snowman, is it?"

"Better than nothin'." He looked Bodie up and down lasciviously. "You goin' to put somethin' on, or do you want to give the neighbours a cheap thrill?"

Doyle made breakfast and after they'd eaten, he prepared the turkey and placed it in the oven while Bodie washed up. The reality of the routine of daily life could not dampen their obvious happiness. No doubt in the future they'd argue over who'd cook and who'd clean, but not now. Now they were on an exciting voyage of discovery, their friendship attaining new heights, their knowledge of each other reaching greater depths.

By the time Bodie got back to the bedroom, Doyle had opened the curtains and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, clutching an object in Christmas wrapping. "Shall I get yours?" he asked Doyle.

"You got me somethin'?" He looked genuinely surprised.

"Half a mo." When Bodie came back in, he was carrying a large box. It too was wrapped up, hiding its contents.

"Bloomin' 'eck! Where did you hide that?" Doyle asked, amazed.

"Same place you keep your secret wine supply," Bodie replied smugly.

"My secret…. How do you know about that?" Doyle demanded.

"Remember last week after we did the tree, we toasted it with wine. You said you kept a secret supply. I wondered where it was, so on Wednesday when I got here and you were still asleep, I had a quick look around. Didn't take me long to find it." Bodie grinned at the look on Doyle's face. "Figured since you hardly ever get wine out, it was a good place to hide my pressie to you. And I was right, wasn't I?"

Doyle smiled. "Can I open it now?" he asked.

Bodie dumped the box on the bed and watched with fascination as Doyle opened it, careful not to rip the wrapping. "Don't know why you're taking it off so carefully. It's only going to get thrown away," he pointed out when Doyle seemed to be taking an inordinately long time about it.

Doyle grinned. "It's my upbringing - we recycled everythin', even wrappin' paper."

Finally the paper fell away. Bodie had been unable to disguise the box.

"A colour telly!" said Doyle excitedly.

"A portable one," said Bodie. "You can watch it in bed, or in the kitchen, wherever."

It only took Doyle a few minutes to get it out and set it up. "An' it's got one of those infra red remote controls! Brilliant!"

Doyle reminded Bodie of a big kid. He looked so happy as he fiddled with the buttons, trying to get it to work.

Bodie rolled his eyes at Doyle's efforts and shook his head. "R.T.F.M. Ray," he said.

Doyle looked up, obviously trying to work out the initials. He gave up. "Wossat mean?"

"Standard in the army, mate. It means: Read The Fucking Manual."

Doyle poked his tongue out, but did as he was told. A few minutes later he flicked between the three channels. "Shit! It's the God Slot on every side," he said dispiritedly.

Bodie looked at him incredulously. "It is Christmas Day. What did you expect?"

"Films."

"They're on later," said Bodie. "And we can save the arguments about which ones we want to watch for later, too," he added firmly.

Doyle picked up his gift for Bodie. "That telly must have cost you an arm and a leg. I'm feelin' guilty now."

Bodie climbed on the bed beside Doyle and took his present. It felt heavy, probably a book. Following Doyle's lead, he opened it carefully and so only saw the back at first. A large framed photo? he wondered. Turning it over, he was rendered speechless. It was a painting of him. By Ray. And every brushstroke shouted out how Doyle felt about him.

"Ray," he whispered, blinking back tears that had suddenly welled up from no-where. Damn, he hadn't cried since he was a kid. He stared up at the ceiling, willing them to go away. With a lush sniff, he managed to bring himself under control.

"Do you like it, then?" Doyle asked, insecurity evident in the tone of his voice.

"It's beautiful," he said simply, gazing at his lover. "I don't know what to say," he added, looking back to the picture in his lap. He wondered if what had happened between them last night hadn't happened, whether Doyle would still have given him the picture. Now Bodie was puzzled. Why had Doyle initially been against them having a relationship.

"Why did you change your mind about us," he voiced the question in his mind. He needed to know.

"Was goin' to ask you that too."

"Me? I've wanted you since the first time I clapped eyes on you," Bodie admitted.

Doyle laughed.

"What?"

"So did I," Doyle explained. "I never thought you were anythin' but dead straight. Christ, what a pair of idiots."

"But you said yesterday that it would screw up our partnership," Bodie pointed out. "And you didn't think I was capable of making the commitment," he added.

"Yeah, an' immediately after I'd opened my gob, I regretted it. I've wanted you for so long. Spent most of yesterday hopin' you'd change your mind."

Bodie grinned. "Was that what that was all about? The wanking in the bog and stuff?"

"Had to have a try, didn't I?" said Doyle ruefully. "Last night drivin' back here, when you mentioned again about us not gettin' together, I decided you were never goin' to change your mind. Felt really bad."

"An' that's why you gave me the silent treatment?"

Doyle looked contrite. "Yeah." After a moment, he added, "Yesterday you seemed convinced that us gettin' involved would get us kicked off the squad. So, what's made you change your mind?"

"Nothing. But there must be some way round it. Maybe we could convince the Cow…" Doyle's expression made it clear he didn't seem too hopeful. "Well, he knows we're both bi, and he still took us on," Bodie pointed out.

"But he also told us we couldn't take male lovers," Doyle added.

Bodie suddenly sat bolt up-right as realisation dawned. "Because they might work for an outside agency!" he said excitedly. "Do you?"

"Do I what…? Oh! Course not! Bloody 'ell! I'd never thought of it like that!"

"Shit, that's what he meant last night!"

"What? What who meant?" Doyle looked clearly lost.

"I couldn't make out what he was on about at the time…"

"Who?" Doyle asked exasperated.

"The Cow. He said something last night…"

"What? What did he say last night?" Doyle was looking distinctly piqued.

"He told me not to broadcast it to the world, because I never knew who was watching."

Doyle's shoulders sagged in resignation. "Broadcast what, Bodie?"

"That's what's been niggling at me ever since. I couldn't work out what the fuck he was on about…"

"He's not the only one. Why don't you get to the point!" Doyle's voice level had risen several decibels.

"Hold yer horses, I'm getting there." He grinned at Doyle, but his lover was having none of it. "As I said, I didn't know what he was on about, but I was looking at you at the time, and thinking how much you mean to me. I reckon he saw it on my face and was telling me to tone it down a bit in public."

"He knows about us? What - has he got this place bugged?" A shudder went through Doyle at the thought.

"I doubt it. I reckon he thinks we've been lovers for ages. Just assumed it. Maybe that's why he teamed us in the first place."

"So, he wouldn't mind then?" Doyle clarified.

"Apparently not," he confirmed.

"An' how much do I mean to you?" Doyle asked suddenly, referring him back to his earlier remark.

Looking down at the painting on his lap gave Bodie the courage he needed to say what he wanted to say. He picked up Doyle's hand and, intertwining their fingers. Looking steadily into the bright green eyes he said very quietly, "I love you. You mean more to me than anyone ever has. And if you want a commitment, you've got it. Now and for the rest of my life, if you'll have me."

Doyle was left temporarily speechless. Instead he leant forward and placed a light kiss on Bodie's lips. As he pulled back, Bodie noticed his eyes were suspiciously bright. What a pair they made.

"I love you too," Doyle half whispered, his voice cracking. "An' yeah, I'll take you on for as long as you're willin' to stay."

After carefully placing the picture on the floor, Bodie pushed Doyle down on the bed and covered the slim body with his. Sliding his fingers through still-damp curly locks, he adorned Doyle's face with light kisses, temple to temple, along the damaged cheekbone, over his nose and down the other side. Doyle's hands glided lightly up and down his back as Bodie moved over to one ear and then the other, licking and nuzzling, causing a shiver of delight to run through Doyle. With his tongue, he ran a wet trail down his neck, following the carotid's path, onto his chest, through the hair to fasten on a nipple. Applying lips and teeth, he elicited a gasp of pleasure. The nub stood to attention, so small compared to what he'd lately been used to. But apparently equally sensitive, judging by the way Doyle bucked with each nip or suck. He moved his attention to the other nipple, sliding his tongue through the dark mat on the way, the hairs tickling his lips.

He became conscious of a hard cock pressing into his stomach when, beneath him, Doyle began to buck his hips, wanting more stimulus. Bodie moved back up and kissed him hard, pushing his pelvis against Doyle and getting an answering push.

"I've wanted this so much," Bodie said, it almost coming out as a sob. The feel of Doyle's cock sliding against his was just breathtaking. He ground harder, wanting to increase the friction. Panting, he felt a trickle of sweat slide down from his temples.

Beneath him Doyle, hair spread out on the pillow, a wanton look on his face, looked like a fallen angel. Bodie could barely believe they were here, doing this, he'd wanted it for so long. And none of his fantasies prepared him for the reality of Doyle, the beauty of what they were sharing together. Not even close.

"Beautiful," Doyle whispered, as if reading his thoughts, his hand cupping Bodie's flushed cheek. He ran a thumb over Bodie's lips.

"Bodie, I…" he faltered.

"What?"

"I want to fuck you," he said in a rush. "Want to know what you felt last night."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Bodie said simply, and leaning down, kissed Doyle, lips at first nuzzling, the kiss deepening as their tongues danced, sucked. Bodie pulled back and looked down into the face of his love.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Doyle's voice came out a breathy whisper.

He rolled off Doyle and lay on his stomach next to him. Hands skimmed his shoulders and back, massaged his buttocks. He felt them parted and a hot tongue flicking along the groove, pushing at the pucker of muscle. A lush sigh escaped him, his cock hardening further as he opened his legs to give his lover greater access. As Doyle rimmed him, he drove his cock into the bed as it demanded greater stimulation.

The tongue was replaced by a finger which pushed gently inside, teasing. He groaned and pushed back, driving the finger further in. The invader found that special place and as it pushed against it, he nearly jack-knifed off the bed.

"Yesssss!" he called out, shuddering uncontrollably. He wanted Doyle to take him so desperately, it was almost a physical ache.

Doyle's hand patted him consolingly. When he felt Doyle move away, he lifted his head from where it had been resting on his arms. Doyle reached to the bedside table and opening the draw, pulled something out. The hand lotion he used the night before. He must have fetched it while he was doing the washing up. He watched as Doyle squirted some cream onto his fingers. A moment later, one glided into him, slick and smooth and then another joined the first. With the third, he began to recall that wonderful fullness he'd been so long denied.

"Get onto all fours," Doyle told him. "It'll make it easier."

Bodie obliged, his heart thudding in his chest with anticipation as Doyle first coated his cock liberally and then moved behind him. He wanted this so much. Wanted Doyle to take possession of him, own him and all rights to him. Total and utter surrender.

Behind him, Doyle gripped his hips and entered him, sliding in inch by glorious inch, stretching him, filling him, completing him. He could hear Doyle's efforts to control himself as he tried to force himself to breathe evenly. Then Doyle was moving, sliding out and then in, excruciatingly slowly.

It was too slow for him, he wanted more, harder, firmer. He pushed back, his buttocks slapping against Doyle's stomach. That was more like it. He was moving, setting his own pace.

"Bodie," Doyle whispered, "Oh god Bodie. I…."

"Your hand," Bodie demanded. "Touch me."

Shuddering from the sensation, Bodie felt himself taken into a firm grip, the still-slick fingers sliding easily along his length, milking him. The twin sensations inside and out were too much and he knew the storm was about to break. Inhaling deeply the musk of their lovemaking, he speeded up his thrusts, his balls contracting in preparation for the sweet ecstasy of release. And then he came, gushing, spewing his seed over Doyle's fingers, feeling as though he were going to pass out with sensory overload. Behind him Doyle stopped all movement. In doing so, it allowed him to feel every contraction grip Doyle's cock that buried deep in him. Then Doyle moved, plunging hard three times and, crying out his name, came hard, planting his seed deep in him.

"Fuck!" said Doyle, lying in a sweaty heap beside Bodie, the bed a wreck.

"Yeah," Bodie agreed. He moved to make himself more comfortable and winced.

"You all right?" Doyle asked, a frown on his face.

"Just feeling a bit…mucky," he smiled. "Need another shower, or maybe a bath..."

"Not enough room for the two of us in the bath," Doyle pointed out.

They lay quiet, basking in the aftermath of their lovemaking, the smell of the roasting turkey reaching them. Christmas lunch together. Bodie was looking forward to it.

He finally broke the silence. "Last night," he said, "what made you decide to change your mind?"

Doyle grinned at the memory. "Seein' you there in nothin' but your undies which hardly covered your hard-on," he replied.

Bodie looked appalled. "Where were you goin' then?"

"Goin?" Doyle asked, puzzled. "I'd been about to have a wank when I realised I'd run out of tissues in my bedroom. Was on my way to get some bog-roll, but I never made it when I found you on your way to see me," he added with a leer.

"Wasn't on my way to see you," said Bodie quietly.

"Eh?" Doyle looked puzzled. "What were you doin' creepin' about with a stiffie then?"

"Same reason you were," explained Bodie.

Doyle laughed. "You mean…you mean…" he couldn't finish the sentence with the laughter.

Bodie began to see the funny side of it. Here they were, together now, because of a misunderstanding. Bodie praised all the gods for his good fortune.

"Tell you somethin' else," Doyle said with a grin.

"What?"

"'S a pity we won't be able to say anythin' about us at work."

Bodie knew there'd be a punchline, and went along with it. "Why's that, then?"

Doyle smiled happily. "'Cos I'd just love to see Anson eat one of his cigars!"

 

[finis]


End file.
